


Sweet Dreams, Sleep Tight

by septic_dr_citrus



Category: Video Blogging RPF, Youtube RPF
Genre: Body Worship, Body kisses, Consensual Somnophilia, Ego x Reader, Exhaustion, Grinding, Insomnia, Late at Night, Overworking, Sleep Sex, Smut, Somnophilia, Sort Of, Stress Relief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 05:13:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20718671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/septic_dr_citrus/pseuds/septic_dr_citrus
Summary: Henrik needs something to quiet his mind and release some of his pent-up stress from work. Appreciating your sleeping body may be just the thing.





	Sweet Dreams, Sleep Tight

When he first comes to bed, Henrik thinks he is exhausted enough to curl up against you and drop right to sleep. Of course he isn’t. As soon as he allows his body to relax, his mind jumpstarts, racing round and round with all of the thoughts he had filed away for later while he was working.

The most prominent, the most persistent, are thoughts of you. He lies on his side with his elbow cradling his head, his eyes tracing the curves of your face and neck in the dim light. He’s lost track of how many times he’s lost himself just in _staring_ at you. Your lashes move softly against your cheeks as you dream; Henrik can’t help but wonder what you’re dreaming about. Carefully he eases closer, lifting a hand to stroke the curve of the shoulder that’s escaped from your nightshirt. No—it’s _his_ nightshirt, soft and comfortable but just a little too big for you.

The surprise that runs through him is followed seconds later by a tingle below. He bites his lower lip, considering for a minute. You’re a heavy sleeper but you know what he likes. You made a deal last year: the nightshirt is permission, if he wants to take the opportunity, and it would be sure to expel his excess energy…An experimental shift of his hips presses him flush against the outside of your thigh and his breath hitches. You’ve taken some initiative; you aren’t wearing any underclothes. The contrast of your soft, warm skin against his, hot and hardening, is what finally breaks his hesitation.

Pushing away his section of the covers, he sits up and drags his pajama pants and underwear away, tossing them onto the floor on his side with a dull thump, barely audible. Mindful of the creaky bedspring, he twists as gracefully as possible, rolling and shuffling to kneel between your legs. You don’t stir, not even when he places gentle hands on your thighs and push them apart to make more room.

The hem of the nightshirt is eased up past your hips and abdomen to rest just under your armpits. You’re fully exposed for him and he can’t help but pause to take in the sight. “_Du bist so wunderschön…_” he whispers, watching the peaceful rise and fall of your chest. It’s been a few months since you’ve let him do this; seeing it again after so long is like seeing it for the first time again. Your body is always changing; perhaps he _is_ seeing it for the first time again. In any and every case, the openness and the stillness and the flutter of your breaths past your parted lips make you even more tempting to him.

Lowering his eyes to his task, he leans. From just above your naval to just under your sternum he presses openmouthed kisses, tender things set off with slow sucks and quick bites that he soothes with his tongue immediately afterward. He may very well end up leaving a few marks behind for the morning, he realizes, chuckling ruefully under his breath. He wonders how you might react when you see them.

When he grazes his teeth against the skin around your ribcage, you shift, murmuring unintelligibly in your sleep. Hurriedly he lifts his head away by a few inches, flushing preemptively as he locks wide eyes onto yours. Will you open them? What can he say if you catch him in the act?

You turn your head somewhat, hair mussing against your pillow as you heave a drowsy sigh, but eventually you settle back into place and fall still.

More cautiously now, Henrik bows his head, closing his own eyes for a moment as he absorbed the relief. “Stay like this,” he mouths almost pleadingly against your rib. Then he continues. It isn’t long before he captures his preferred pace again. He loves how you smell, how you taste, how you move. He loves exhaling warm air over the goosebumps that surface. Your abdomen falls and flexes against his mouth as your breaths deepen and every so often he picks up the rhythm of your heart.

There’s something _exciting_ about doing this to you, wondering if you can feel him, wondering if or when he will enter your dreams…A sensual growl surfaces in his throat at the thought, one he suppresses in favor of fisting his hands into the fabric of the sheets on either side of you. Despite the fact that he hasn’t gone near your entrance, he’s aching. Seeing you so guileless, so helpless, and knowing that you _asked_ for it is a maddening tease in and of itself.

After another few minutes, he lifts himself forward, grinding against your entrance. You squirm at the sensation, spreading your legs further for him, and it takes all of his willpower not to thrust in hard. It’s so familiar, the heat and the tightness of your muscles around him; he wants all of it, all of you in sharp, quick movements, but he won’t. He lets you sleep. He keeps his tempo long and slow, settling in, coaxing moisture into you little by little.

He relishes how you start to fidget and writhe; it’s clear that somewhere in your subconscious, you know what’s happening. Whispering caring encouragement and praise, he kisses along your jawline and against your flushed cheek, draping fully onto you and enjoying how your body gives and molds underneath him. Your sleepy whines of pleasure and your gasps get louder; at long last, you let out a high-pitched moan, clenching around him.

The sound and the sensation shoot straight to his core and he stiffens, the coiling need for release surging through him. It’s too much; he buries his face in your hair, shuddering and slurring out his love for you as his heart thunders wildly through the climax.

Over the course of the afterglow, his excess energy seeps away. The longer he lies against you, the more his wild thoughts settle back down, like fall leaves losing the wind behind them. He takes a shaky breath as he eases away from you, trembling, and sways back onto his side of the bed. The sheets are cold against the sweat coating his back, but he’s tired enough now that he can’t bring himself to care, letting his eyes flicker closed. His hands move by instinct, readjusting the blankets over himself and over you. He’s drifting… You can both think about the cleanup in the morning.


End file.
